


Damn Hunters

by scottmcniceass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles finally - FINALLY - might get a chance at some hot, steamy werewolf lovin'. Too bad hunters don't really know the difference between a werewolf trying to kill you, and a werewolf trying to kiss you.</p>
<p>Or, the one with the Supernatural crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damn Hunters

“When did this stop being about you threatening me and become you wanting to get in my pants?” Stiles asked as Derek pressed him against a wall, his eyes flashing red.

Derek dropped him, fast. “What?”

Stiles grinned. “Come on, man. I know Scott annoys you _way_ more than I do but you’re not constantly pushing  _him_  against things, are you?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Nope, because you _like_ me.”

“I definitely don't ‘like you’.” Derek said calmly, his eyebrows drawn together in that ever-constant frown of his.

Stiles pushed off from the wall. He couldn’t even remember why Derek was upset at him in the first place, but he hadn’t actually expected his plan to _work_. He figured Derek would just get angrier at him, but no, he was actually backing down. Maybe Stiles… had been right? Oh, of course he was. He was never wrong. People really needed to get that through their thick skulls, _Scott_.

“So you _do_ like me, don’t you?” Stiles stepped closer to Derek, who, honest to god, took a step back. Yeah, all two hundreds pounds of muscle and alpha power was backing away from _him._ It’s so nice being badass.

Derek didn’t even respond, he just growled angrily.

“Why don’t you do something about it, then, huh?” Stiles challenged, spreading his arms to his side in a show of defencelessness. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Derek bridged the gap between them, grabbing Stiles roughly by his shirt. Derek lifted him until he was almost completely off the ground, standing on his toes. The height made him taller then Derek but definitely not anymore in control.

“Shut _up_ ,” Derek ordered, snarling.

But Stiles really wasn’t afraid. All that much. Or maybe he just had a death wish. Plus, the potential outcome was kind of worth the risk, right? “Make me.”

Derek’s lips brushed his so faintly he almost couldn’t feel them. Stiles, okay, he whimpered. In a manly fashion. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, glaring as Derek placed him back on the ground.

Derek wasn’t looking at him, though. His head was cocked to the side and his face was contorted with concentration. “Someone’s here.” he said, grabbing Stiles and moving him so that he was behind Derek, protected.

His bedroom door was kicked open, nearly flying off his hinges, and seriously, was that necessary? It wasn’t even locked. He didn’t have a chance to say any of that, though, because Derek’s angry roar ripped through the room. Stiles backed up, putting more space between himself and the angry alpha werewolf, and whoever he hell just broke into his house.

And then Derek dropped and Stiles had a single panic filled second to wonder if he was okay, and then someone roughly grabbed his arm and dragged him from his house.

“What the hell?” He shouted, trying to pull free.

Whoever was holding him was a lot stronger than he was, though, and it was no use. He found himself being shoved into the back seat of a sleek car and before he could even try to open the door to escape the thing was pulling away from his house so fast that he would get seriously hurt if he tried to jump out of it now.

“My dad’s the sheriff,” Stiles said as calmly as he could. He couldn’t see the faces of his captors but he could see the backs of their heads. One had semi long brown hair broad shoulders. He looked impossibly large in the small space of the car. The other was slightly smaller with lighter, short hair. “You realize that he’s going to have everyone out looking for your asses, right? And he won’t stop until he finds me. You guys are so fu--,”

“We’re not _kidnapping_ you,” said the driver, the lighter haired one. “We’re saving your ass.”

The brown haired one turned in his seat. He had wide puppy eyes, kind of like Scott’s, and he was doing the same thing Scott did whenever he wanted to Stiles to believe him, or give him the last piece of pizza. “We’re trying to help.” he said in a soothing manner but, seriously? This guy was like a freaking mountain. It wasn’t exactly calming. “You see, that guy in there, Derek, he’s--,”

“A werewolf, and if we didn’t bust in there when we did you’d probably be puppy chow right now, so how about you stop threatening us and maybe, oh, I don’t know, thank us for saving your freaking life?”

Stiles sat back I his seat, his body hitting the upholstery with a thud. And then he started laughing. “Oh, my god,” he said through his giggles. Both boys had turned to him now, the lighter haired one with the bad attitude only for a brief second because he was driving. “He wasn’t going to kill me.” Stiles go out after he calmed down a bit. “I mean, sure, he’s probably considered it, pictured it in a thousand different gruesome ways, but that was when we first met. I think I’ve worked my charm on him.”

And then Stiles’ eyes widened as he remembered what happened. He put his hands on the back of both of their seats, his eyes narrowed, fingers clawing at the material under his hands. “If you hurt him, so help me god, I will--,”

“If we--?” The two boys exchanged a look. “Kid, I don’t think you understand. That thing would have went fuzzy and ripped your throat out.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. In fact, I think we were actually going in the opposite direction when you two dumbasses kicked open my bedroom door which, by the way, totally unnecessary.” Stiles was almost vibrating with anger by this point. “What did you do to him? He was on the floor when we left. If he’s dead--,”

“He’s not dead.” The driver said and he actually rolled his eyes in the rear view mirror when they met with Stiles‘. “He got away when we were evacuating you from the house. He’ll try to come after us. That’s why we have to get you as far from here as possible, keep you safe, or that whole operation was pointless.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Stiles snapped. “He wasn’t going to hurt me!”

“Oh, god, was he your boyfriend?” The driver asked with a deep, suffering sigh. “Look, Sammy, we found someone who shares your interest with riding on the supernatural side--,”

“Shut up.” The larger man -- Sammy? No, that fluffy name did not fit with a guy that… not fluffy. -- Sam, said angrily. He turned to Stiles once again. “Is he?” he urged, eyes filled with concern. “Because, look, I know you might think he won’t hurt you, but--,”

Stiles rolled his own eyes now. “For the love of-- will you two just let me go? No, he’s not my boyfriend, sadly, and I’m totally blaming you two for that, by the way, and no, he’s not going to kill me. I don’t know what the hell it is that you two know about werewolves, but Derek isn’t the type to just snap and kill anything that moves. He was born a werewolf. He knows how to control it.”

 

 

“Born.” Sam repeated, frowning. “You mean--,”

He didn’t get to finish his question because something hard landed on the roof. The metal groaned under the weight and the car shifted to the left as the driver shouted, “You hurt my car and I’ll be using your head as a hood ornament when we’re done here!”

The car stopped and the two men were out of the vehicle before Stiles could even process what was going on. When he finally fumbled his own door open, the scene in front of him made him want to yell angrily, or maybe cry in frustration. Or punch something. Yeah, punching something would probably feel good.

Derek’s face was contorted with the change, his claws extended, eyes blazing red. The two men, who must have been hunters, Stiles realized a little late (how had he not put that connection together?) each held guns, trained on Derek.

And Stiles stepped between the three of them. “You shoot him, you’re gunna have to shoot me first.”

“Stiles,” Derek ground out, stepping closer to him. Stiles could feel the warmth he radiated seeping into his back as Derek nearly pressed against him. “Go.”

Stiles resisted the urge to turn around and make an angry face at him. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on the shorter of the two men, the one who seemed more likely to shoot first. “And let you get shot? Not going to happen anytime soon, buddy. Remember the last time you got shot? Almost had to cut off your arm. That was a very traumatic thing for me, I still have nightmares.”

Derek didn’t make any noise after that. Instead, he picked Stiles up under his arms and pushed him away. He hit the ground, hard. His elbow scraped the cement and it burned but he ignored it, trying to scramble up as quickly as he could.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles muttered as Derek launched himself at the smaller man, knocking his gun aside. The taller one, Sam, moved to shoot him, but Stiles got there first, jumping onto his back, making him shoot the ground instead.

Derek wasn’t ripping out the throat of the other man, like Stiles expected. Instead, he knocked him to the ground easily and moved towards Stiles and Sam. He grabbed Stiles off Sam’s back while grabbing the gun from his hand at the same time.

Derek had discarded the smaller man as finished, but he wasn’t. Stiles watched as he picked his gun up from where it landed on the ground, and aimed it at the two of them. Pain exploded in his leg and he cried out before the world started going fuzzy around the edges and then finally went black.

 

\--

 

“Let’s add ‘getting shot’ to the list of things I never want to happen to me again. Ever.” Stiles muttered, hitting the button on his hospital bed so it reclined.

Derek made a low angry noise in response. That’s all he’d been doing since he’d walked into Stiles’ hospital room. It was starting to get annoying.

“So what happened to those two guys?” Stiles asked, sitting up a bit but being careful not to move his leg. It still hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Gone.” Derek answered, finally using _words_. “Argent said that this was his territory and he didn’t appreciate anyone else hunting in it, no matter how famous they are. Or something. He wouldn’t let me kill them.”

“If you could.” Stiles teased, but he was kind of serious, too. He knew that Derek probably wouldn’t have lived if he hadn’t been there.

“Shut up,” Derek retorted.

Stiles grinned, despite the situation he was in, despite the pain in his leg. “Make me.”

And so he did.

And the kiss was awesome, for the record.


End file.
